


Weary Wings

by sylveondreams



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Massage, Wing massage, listen it's just soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylveondreams/pseuds/sylveondreams
Summary: Crowley gives Aziraphale a massage.





	Weary Wings

"You must be tired." Crowley ushered Aziraphale into his bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Tense. I feel tense. Gabriel surprised me today. And you won't tempt me into sleeping with you, demon." Aziraphale smiled softly.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Might I tempt you to a massage?"

Aziraphale hummed. "That sounds delightful, my dear. Do you know how?"

"I've never done it before," admitted Crowley, "but I have watched YouTube tutorials."

The angel chuckled. "I believe those were one of ours."

"Take off your shirt, angel," Crowley said, ignoring him. "And lie down. This is a temptation, I'm not doing it with your shirt on."

Aziraphale's eyes widened like he was surprised, and he quickly, or at least as quickly as he could manage with his present attire and without a miracle, undressed halfway.

Silver leaf was scattered like scales on his neck and upper body, blending into or perhaps hidden under the curly white hair that populated his chest. Crowley had seen it before, of course, it _had_  been six thousand years, but the similarity of Aziraphale's silver leaf to the little scales that littered his own body was always striking. He looked the angel up and down for a long moment.

"Crowley," Aziraphale prompted gently.

"Hmm. Yes. Ah, lie down on your stomach." Crowley tore his eyes from the silver scales and sat on the bed, patting the covers next to him.

Aziraphale laid down leisurely, the silver leaf catching the light and gleaming as he moved, trapping Crowley's eyes on it again. He propped himself up on one elbow and watched Crowley for a long moment.

Crowley shook himself mentally. "On your _stomach_ , angel." He pushed Aziraphale's shoulder lightly, and the angel willingly collapsed onto the bed. Crowley flexed his hands, trying to figure out where he was supposed to start.

There was a rush of displaced air as Aziraphale's wings unfolded from nothing. Crowley drew back in surprise, feathers suddenly brushing his fingertips.

"Did I surprise you, my dear?" Aziraphale asked into the bed.

"No, I just- I wasn't expecting that." Crowley rubbed the bases of Aziraphale's spreading wings, the downy feathers where they connected with his skin soft under his fingers. Aziraphale's pinions shuddered with pleasure as he relaxed into the sheets.

"You really haven't done this before?" he muttered.

"You'd know if I had. Who else would I do this for, angel?"

Aziraphale laughed softly, breathlessly. His wings shifted next to Crowley's hands, the powerful muscles in his back that governed them tight under Crowley's fingers. Crowley dug into these muscles with his thumbs, and the angel made a sound that could only be described as a moan. That was good. That meant Crowley was doing the right thing, even if it did make his cheeks heat up a little bit. He worked his fingers up to the base of Aziraphale's left wing, stroking and gently kneading the soft down. The wing stretched out, the feathers at its tip brushing the wall without bending. Crowley had picked his bedroom so that he could stretch out his wings if he wanted to, and it looked like Aziraphale was taking advantage of that.

Crowley stroked a hand down a long, white feather, feeling it tremble slightly under his touch. "Aziraphale," he said softly, "Your feathers are beautiful. Do you groom them?"

"Crowley." The angel pushed himself up on his elbows, and Crowley pushed him back down.

"Angel. Stay down." He worked his fingers into the base of Aziraphale's wing again, pushing at the tense muscle.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale's wing shook like a dog's leg does when you scratch the right part of their neck. "Crowley, I-" He glanced imploringly at the demon out of the corner of his eye, the side of his face pressed into the bed.

"Mm?" Crowley moved to the other wing, doing the same thing at its base, sending it shaking out towards the other wall.

"I'm going to lose my mind if you keep doing this." This was all said in one breath.

Crowley took his hands away. Aziraphale glared at him for the split second a glare directed at Crowley could ever last on his face.

"Crowley!"

"You said-" Crowley put his hands back on Aziraphale's wing, massaging with extra vigor to make up for the interruption. Aziraphale moaned, a proper one this time, and Crowley felt his cheeks light up red. "Angel, you can't do that."

Aziraphale buried his face in the sheets and hummed. "You wouldn't say that if you felt this," he said, muffled.

"Mm. Can it really be that good?"

Aziraphale reached back with a hand to grab Crowley's wrist, and suddenly Crowley was able to feel his own weight pressing against the side of his leg like it was against the angel. "Do it again, my dear."

Crowley repeated what he'd just done, and this time he could feel it himself. It was, well, heavenly. His wing muscles hadn't been used properly in so long, and the touch released tensions he hadn't even known he had.

There was a rush of air as his wings unfolded of their own accord, sending black feathers shaking out towards the walls to lie over Aziraphale's wings.

"Oh." He did it again, and white and black feathers brushed together as they trembled. "Oh, angel."

Aziraphale let go of Crowley's wrist, letting his hand fall back to the bed.

Crowley wrestled back a hiss. He could be patient. He dug his fingers into Aziraphale's back again, and the angel hummed contentedly.

After several minutes, a white wing rose above Crowley, feathers brushing the ceiling, and fell down again to smack the demon in the head.

Crowley glared down at Aziraphale. "What?"

"Lie down with me," Aziraphale said lazily into the sheets. His wing hooked around Crowley's shoulders.

Crowley sighed dramatically and obliged, his wings folding back into nothingness to make it easier. Aziraphale's wing settled over him like a blanket.

"Thank you for doing that, dear," Aziraphale muttered, his hand finding Crowley's and squeezing gently. "I feel much better."

Crowley couldn't help but smile at him, the contented look on Aziraphale's face balm to his _very venomous_ soul. "You'll have to do that for me someday. Pay me back."

"You'll have to demonstrate again first so I know what I'm doing." The angel smiled back at him.


End file.
